


The Manic Rhapsody

by shelikescookies



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Bipolar Disorder, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Public Sex, Tim is bipolar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 04:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20988575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelikescookies/pseuds/shelikescookies
Summary: When Dick stumbled upon a euphoric, dancing Tim in the middle of the night cooking breakfast, he immediately realized something wasn't right, no matter how cosmic Tim's mood was — or ratherespeciallybecause of it.(Tim is about 17 in this, taggedUnderageto be safe.)





	The Manic Rhapsody

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to "[Judgment Call](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20923109)", when the family just started noticing Tim's behavioral changes and do research. 
> 
> I hope I didn't fuck it up too bad, I'm sorry if that's the case. 
> 
> There are two quick scenes with Tim/OMC and Tim/Jason, but nothing too serious to tag or actually count it as cheating imo, since Tim's not really in his right mind
> 
> (also i'm back again with the hozier titles, ayooo)

Tim was definitely acting weird lately. 

Sure, the kid had a lot of peculiar habits, and rapid mood swings were a problem he dealt with for quite some time now, but those always had a reason, a way to explain his odd behavior. Whether it's a tough case, school work, work. Too much coffee, too little. 

That was normal. 

_This_, however… 

Dick decided to crash in his old room for the night after B dragged him along for a case that needed closure and after they returned at nearly 5.30am, he just wanted to take a shower, a quick snack and his warm, comfortable, smelling-like-childhood bed. 

His hair was still damp from the shower he took in the cave and marched through the dark hallways to thief a little midnight snack, only to find someone already has had the same idea. 

Wary of the bustling coming from the kitchen, accompanied by a chipper whistle, Dick rounded the corner and stepped into the light. 

In front of the stove stood Tim, clad in only an old t-shirt he begrudgingly inherited from Jason and a skimpy pair of boxers, changing from whistling to humming and he started swaying his hips to the rhythm. 

And Dick — well, let's say even Bruce would've been speechless. 

After performing a flawless pirouette, Tim finally caught on to Dick's presence where he still stood in the doorway, completely stunned. 

"Dick!", he called with a bright — surprisingly well-rested — smile. He returned to the song and the pan twirling. "You're back!" 

Dick couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh. "Erm, what is this?" 

Tim perked his head up, looked down to the pan, then the cracked eggs lying strewn all over the countertop and the variety of seasoning, then back at him. 

"Omelet! You want some? I've made enough for the whole Justice League!" Tim laugh wholeheartedly and if Dick wasn't so freaked out, he might have enjoyed that sound. 

Struggling to find the right words, Dick wiped a hand down his face and he drew his brows together. Trying to find out why your baby brother was acting like he swallowed a handful of ecstasy was pretty hard on its own without feeling utterly overwhelmed by the situation. A curious glance past his dancing brother confirmed what he feared — the coffee machine was untouched, so that canceled out being hyped up from too much caffeine. 

"What are you even doing up? Are you okay?", Dick inquired. Maybe he had a nightmare and used the happy-go-lucky facade to masquerade how upset he actually was. 

"I'm fine. Just couldn't sleep when I came home, is all. So I decided to relieve Alfred of his duties and make breakfast!" 

"Breakf— Tim, it's 5.30." No one would be up until 10am. At the _earliest_.

"_Shit!_ Already?" Tim jumped back from the stove as if burned and Dick prepared to rush to him for help, but the kid was busy hurrying out of the kitchen. "I wanted to go for a run ten minutes ago. Thanks, Dick!" 

"... You're welcome, I guess?" He stared after him for a long time, trying to process what the hell he just witnessed until the faint smell of burned food reached his nostrils and he turned around to find the omelet close to catching fire over the still turned on stove. 

"For fucks sake, Tim! Oh shit!" 

Dick threw the pan in the sink and finally turned off the stove before moving to open a window to let the smoke waft out, lest it caused alarm to anyone already sleeping. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched Tim, now changed into a pair of sweats, sneakers and a tight jacket, carelessly jog over the vast manor grounds. 

As he turned to gaze over the kitchen island, standing full of plates with perfectly served omelets, Dick made a mental note to ask B for a blood sample from Tim. Maybe he got hit by some toxin or gas out on patrol and that was the reason he was acting all cray-cray. 

Fishing a fork out the drawer, he grabbed one of the omelets and made his way to his room. He _did_ came in here for something to eat, after all. 

* * *

It was moments like these that made Dick question _all_ of his previous life choices. Becoming a vigilante. Yearning after approval from a man dressing up as a bat for funsies. Moving to Blüdhaven after a rough breakup. Up to the point of _becoming a police officer_. 

He already caught the bad guys in his night job, why again did he think it necessary to do it in the broad daylight? 

Oh right! Because he wasn't chasing bad guys. He was _stuck_ sitting on his desk, doing fucking _paperwork_ for hours on end! 

Fed up, he stormed outside for a quick break unless he broke something inside. For once he was glad for one of his better bad decisions and pulled out a pack of cigarettes he confiscated from Jason after reciting the risk of smoking, and lit one himself. He really wasn't big on smoking — unhealthy, bad habit, makes you stink, but damn, he couldn't deny the calming sensation that washed over him after the first drag. 

A bunch of colleagues joined him after a few minutes and Dick enjoyed the break to socialize talking about random crap like dates and the sports game last night instead of work or his nighttime job. 

That's why he groaned in annoyance when his phone rang and he scrunched the cigarette under his heel. He frowned as he saw Bruce's ID displayed and hastily excused himself from the group, _"have to take that one"_, and walked until he was out of hearing distance to accept the call. 

"Okay, who died?", Dick joked despite how his pulse always spiked when Bruce called him while he was at work. That shit was never good news. 

_"Tim's school called to inform me of his absence." _

"He isn't in school?", he asked incredulously. Dick let out a deep breath. "Seriously? He's a teenager, B. _I_ skipped school and turned out just fine. Jay was the odd one out and see where that got him—" 

_"That's not all. He left the manor before Alfred drove him to school. Tim didn't seem troubled, quite the opposite actually…" _

Dick's heart sank. It's been a few days since their encounter in the kitchen and Dick hoped it was only a one time thing. 

"You did check his blood like I told you, didn't you?" 

Bruce grunted. "Negative. There's nothing in his bloodstream to justify that kind of behavior and we never had to deal with these symptoms over that period of time." 

Dick hated everything about this. Tim was still acting all doped up and now even went missing. Just great. 

_"He's not with you, is he?" _

"I'm working, B. No, he's not." Scratching the back of his neck, he ran through multiple options to find Tim. "Nothing on the surveillance cameras?" 

All he got was a negative grunt and Dick cursed. 

"Alright, keep me posted if you find him. Let me try something." 

He hung up after receiving Silence of Confirmation and hurried through his contacts to dial his sort-of only hope. 

Conner. 

* * *

"Tim — _shit_." 

Kon moaned as Tim took him down to the root, swallowing around him like a pro. God, he loved everything about this. 

Keeping his hands to himself was the hardest part. He wanted to bury his fingers in Tim's hair to just thrust. His boyfriend proved many times before that he could handle it, but now of all times he had to go bossy on him, demanding that he wouldn't touch him. And honestly? It was safe to say Kon never got so hard, so fast in his life.

But that's the effect Tim Drake had on him. 

Tim pulled back, licking over his wet tip provocatively, not once breaking eye contact. His tongue darted out to trace his lips where a drop of precum missed its mark while jerking him off torturously slow. 

"Go faster," Kon breathed and twitched as Tim blew gently on his cock. 

"What do we say?", Tim asked seductively, eyes black from arousal. The sound of his blood rushing through his veins in excitement shouldn't turn him on as much as it did. Same goes for the undertone Tim usually reserved for Red Robin. 

"Go faster, _please_," Kon emphasized. His hands were shaking by his sides, holding onto his jeans to try and not lose control. 

"_Good boy,_" Tim rasped, obliging happily and Kon was ashamed to admit he almost came on the spot from that alone. Whatever's gotten into Tim, he was okay with it. If his boyfriend wanted to skip school to call him into a secluded alley in a calculated blind spot from the surveillance cameras so the bat wouldn't find them, just to drop to his knees instantly to suck him off, well — he sure as hell won't complain! 

So of _course_ it was just his luck that right before he's about to shoot down Tim's throat, his phone rang with the annoying default ringtone. 

Tim grabbed him by the base, effectively cutting his orgasm off while looking up at him from under those beautiful lashes. Kon could almost ignore the serious expression he suddenly wore. 

"Let it go to voicemail," he said — _commanded_. But Kon broke his rule and cupped Tim's cheek to put distance between his mouth and his cock. 

"At least let me check who it is." Kon chuckled at the disappointment on his face as he pulled out his phone. "Why is your brother calling me?" 

Tim's head snapped up. "Don't pick up—", he begged, but the phone was already on Kon's ear. 

"Hey Dick, what's up?", he greeted him, trying to act cool, y'know, like he didn't currently have his younger brother's hand on his straining erection in public. 

"Tim?", he asked over something Dick said and Tim squeezed his cock in warning. Kon had to bite in his fist to stifle a shout. Little devil! 

"No, I haven't seen him, why? … Uh-huh. Mhm. Y-yeah, I'll keep an eye out for — _him_!" Kon glanced down to find Tim back on his cock, nose buried in his pubes, skilled hands leisurely massaging his balls and Kon was ready to burst. "What? N-no, nothing. See ya, Dick."

He hung up as fast as possible, cracking the screen from the force he was holding his phone with. He couldn't stop rolling his hips, matching Tim's rhythm. 

"Oh yeah, oh _yes_, don't stop now — I'm so close, Tim, babe, I'm coming—" 

Kon came with a loud shout, pretty sure none of his cum ever coating Tim's tongue — he was so deep inside, it never got the chance. Tim made it a show letting him slip from his lips. Kon reached out to brush his bangs out of his face. 

"Hey, erm… Dick asked me to look out for you, that you were… acting strange," Kon informed him, worry shining through his post-orgasmic haze. "What's up with that?" 

Tim rose to his feet, pressing his body to the length of Kon's, littering his flushed neck with kisses in an attempt to distract him. 

"Don't you want to fuck me, Superboy?", Tim purred into his ear. 

Distraction successful. 

* * *

"Jesus, what's the deal with flappy bird over there?" 

Jason approached Dick from the side, joining him by the batcomputer, surveying Tim sparring with Damian. While the young Robin had a look of pure anger on his face, Tim danced around him with a sense of weightlessness that reminded him of himself. He laughed like he had the time of his life. It sent shivers down his spine. 

He threw Jason a quick glance before resuming watching their younger brothers. He gave a halfhearted shrug. 

"Honestly? I have not the slightest idea. He's been like this almost a month now and we're no step closer to figuring it out."

Tim jumped over Damian, gracefully dodging his attack while mocking him with exaggerated movements that only seemed to rile the boy up further. 

"Is he on drugs?", Jason asked in all seriousness. Dick didn't want to admit it out loud, but he was glad others were catching onto his strange behavior as well, that it wasn't just him imagining things. He had a talk with his Young Justice team and even if they were reluctant to 'snitch on their leader', in the end they all confirmed his questioning. Now they just had to find out _why_. 

"We ran several tests, all negative. No drugs, no toxins, no gasses or other hazards. Physically he's a perfectly healthy teenager," Dick explained, gnawing on his fingernail. 

"And mentally?", Jason pressed, urging him to move on. 

"B's looking through his family history if there had been previous cases of illnesses and disorders. And he's thinking about inviting Dinah in, have her take a look at him." Dick sighed and crossed his arms. "Superficially he's the same but with seemingly infinite energy. And a restlessness I can only be jealous of," he added in a light tone. Jason snorted. 

"Is that all why you're worried? Because he's hyped up?", Jason mocked and Dick swatted his arm. 

"He's reckless and jumps the gun without precautions or proper backup." He noticed the look Jason gave him and bumped his shoulder into Jason's. "That's so unlike him! You know how he thinks every detail through thrice before engaging. And then there's the aggression. Some days a look is all it takes to get the top spot on his shit list." 

"Jason!" 

Tim called for the older boy excitedly, sweat glistening all over his body where his tight training clothes revealed heated skin. Jason nodded at him and Tim grinned. 

"Spar with me?", he asked, holding the bo staff in his direction, total disregard for their youngest who trotted off to the showers to lick his wounds. 

"Should I go easy on him?", Jason whispered to Dick. 

"He won't on you," Dick shrugged and Jason took off his jacket, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. 

"Let's see what you got, baby!" 

* * *

It took a lot of favors, research and sweet talking to finally hold it in his hands — a single record of a psychiatrist Tim's mother went to _once_ as a young woman. 

Dick would've loved to say he'd be surprised as to what he found on the last puzzle piece — their all-deciding clue, but all he got was a deep feeling of dread dragging him down as he held the certificate in his shaking hands. 

In hindsight, it explained so much and everything made sense. 

The high energy, euphoric mood, irritability, jumping from one task to another without finishing either. How he seemed fine running on two hours of sleep. Yes, Dick even noticed the increase in sexual behavior, though he preferred not to linger on those thoughts too much. He wasn't sure whether to be glad or not that Conner refused to talk to him about Tim's orbital mood. 

Like he was running on autopilot, Dick reached for his phone and called Bruce. The man picked up on the second tone. 

_"Yes?"_

"B — I think I got it. Tim might be bipolar. I found a record concerning his mom, stating she was diagnosed with it from a young age. It's possible she passed it on to him." 

Dick bit his lip in thought, trying not to be mad at Bruce for staying silent. 

"He needs to see a doctor right away before it gets worse and before he hits the first low." Tim's high was already scary as fuck, he did not want to experience what his lows looked like full force. A shudder ran through him. 

"Hello? Bruce?" 

_"I hear you. I — I'll have it arranged. Good work, Dick." _

Okay, now was not the time to feel giddy about being praised, Grayson. 

"Where is he now?" 

The type of silence coming from B promptly erased the warm feeling in his belly. 

"B. Don't tell me—" 

_"I think Tim invited Jason on a boys night out." _

Shoving the initial betrayal he felt over not being invited into a deep dark corner, Dick took a breath in preparation. "I'll try to reach Jay, he needs to know what's going on with Tim. I think it's best you suit up and find them before things can escalate." 

Bruce grunted in acknowledgement, forcing a smile on Dick's lips. 

* * *

Jason hated clubs. The music was too booming and not his taste, the drinks too expensive, way too crowded — every few seconds someone bumped into him and Jason dug his nails into his palms to keep himself from punching the next guy who roughly shoves past him. 

Why couldn't Tim bring him to a nice quiet bar where you could actually hear your own thoughts and didn't have to shout the same thing ten times over and the other still didn't understand what you said! 

Yeah. Clubs sucked. 

As a group of giggling and swaying girls took the semi-free spot next to him on the bar, effectively forcing him to relocate, Jason growled deep in his throat — not that anyone heard it anyway. But it made him feel better.

So he took the opportunity to skirt through the dancing mass on the floor, moving so perfectly in synch, it looked like one massive individual. Too bad he lost Tim about an hour ago and since the kid threatened to be insufferable if he didn't get to dance _right now_, he had to be around here somewhere. 

Jason didn't expect him to be around the neck of some random guy twice his age, desperately grinding on his thigh, with an expression of pure bliss on his face. 

"Oh no. _Oh no_." If Timothy Drake-Wayne showed up like this in the gazette tomorrow morning, it will be _Jason's_ fault by default, he knew it. 

He fought his way through to the pair and immediately separated them, grabbing the creep's collar and pulling him close enough to talk directly into his ear. 

"The kid's underage. I suggest you pack your stuff and leave Gotham _tonight_ or I promise I'll find you!" 

Jason threw the terrified man to the ground, wound his arm around Tim's waist and guided him out of the dancing organism, out of the club. 

"Jay, let me go!" Tim had struggled the entire way and now that they reached the quiet alley behind the club, he added verbal protests. "I wanna go back inside!" 

"Not a chance, sweetcheeks." Jason raked his eyes over Tim. He looked positively wrecked — his clothes in disarray, flush reaching his heaving chest, not to mention his tented pants. He looked drunk and he sort of hoped he was, but Jason knew for a fact the girls behind the bar refused to pour him alcoholic beverages. _"Conner!" _

"Great idea. The more the merrier," Tim drawled and slid his hands from Jason's chest to his neck. "Let's go back inside and have fun—" 

"What's going on here?" Conner touched down in the alley, confusion and anger evident on his face, but before he reached Jason to threaten him with his life, Jason peeled the kid off him and shoved him towards his actual _boyfriend_. 

"Listen, I don't care what problems you two have, but I don't want to be a part of it. If it's okay with you he's dry humping an old fuck, fine, but I'm not his fucking chaperone. Either take care of him yourself, or he won't be your problem anymore, you understand me?" 

"He did — _what_?" Conner looked down at his boyfriend's debauched appearance. Tim stretched his arms high over his head, bringing one hand down to his neck, then very slowly dragged it down his chest, arching into the touch while moaning obscenely. Jason's cheeks heated up from the display and the noises, and he averted his eyes. 

"Who wants to dance with me?", he offered, taking both of their hands in his, dragging them back to the club, but a shadow startled them, looming over the trio from the rooftops. 

"You're not going anywhere." Batman's command stilled Tim and Jason whispered "B", the same time as Conner cursed "Oh shit" under his breath. 

Batman dropped down right in front of them, frightening and imposing as ever. But the hand that touched Tim's shoulder was gentle. 

"We need to talk." 


End file.
